Time for Solace
by hyacinthian
Summary: Scully has dreams of herself and Mulder. If she tells Mulder, will something greater flourish? [MSR]


Scully threw her keys astride onto a table, carelessly. She shed her jacket and laid it on the couch. She stretched and yawned. She removed her government-issue gun from its holster and laid it on the table, along with her badge and wallet and cell phone. She double-checked to see her apartment door was locked and decided to head into the bathroom to soak in a warm bath to ease her knotted muscles. She shed her clothing and changed into a nice robe. She drew her bath and added some bath salts and soap. She removed her robe and stepped into the steaming water. She inched under, the water level rising to her neck, her head lolling on the counter comfortably. Before she could help it, she drifted into sleep.  
  
2000 BC  
  
Cairo, Egypt  
  
Pharaoh Diana (named for the Greek Goddess) strolled quietly through the halls of her hallowed, large home. Her husband had died and since she had bore him no sons, but one daughter, she ruled their lovely land. She walked by her daughter's room. She had only given birth to one daughter, Da- Scu-Lai, who was as lovely as her. In fact, she had gotten her mother, Diana, in quite a bit of trouble. Da-Scu-Lai's beautiful, bright auburn locks fell curly, unlike the Egyptian's rather straight hair, and they were red, which differed from the Egyptian's dark hair. Thus, the rumor had sprung that during the Pharaoh's rule, Diana had been having numerous affairs with other men, and was quite promiscuous. When she assumed the throne, the rumors abated for a while, but she could not shake them off entirely.  
  
Her daughter was now a lovely teenager, though not nearly as voluptuous as a normal Egyptian teenager should be. This caused some more rumors to spring up. However, she was quite beautiful in her daily attire, and she had an air of humanity toward their Jewish slaves, who compiled huge slabs of limestone to form elaborate tombs. This time, they were ordered to form one for another "great" pharaoh. The slave-drivers growled at them, shrieking in a language they couldn't understand, and were whipped when they did not follow their orders.  
  
Da-Scu-Lai was on her daily stroll around the premises. She was on her daily quest to help the Jewish slaves. Through her education, she had learned the Jewish language, and was pleased when they often called her their guardian angel. She brought them crystal clear water to drink, from within the palace, and fresh bread and meat, taking their stale bread scraps and feeding them to the pigs. She gave them milk and helped rub over their whiplash wounds with salve to help the wounds heal faster.  
  
On her trip this time, she saw a slave she had not spoken to before. She had seen him numerous times, often curled in a corner quietly, but she had never actually communicated with him. He looked a few years older than she, and he looked quite handsome. His dark hair fell to block his eyesight for a little while, and he brushed them aside. His dazzling green eyes were astoundingly beautiful and deep. His skin, though calloused and coarse from the strains and the work he suffered through, was tan and shapely. "Who are you?" she asked, in his native language. He looked up. He bared his teeth.  
  
"You're Egyptian? Why should you care? Return to your lovely palace, Princess," he remarked, harshly. "You shouldn't even know how to speak the language of the slaves. You're too high-ranked for that, aren't you?"  
  
She offered him the bread and milk, which he refused. "I will not take your charity and pity, milady. I can do fine on my own."  
  
She scorned him with an angry flick of her head. "I'm just trying to help. What's your name?" she asked, politely, still trying to befriend the man.  
  
"My name is David Fox."  
  
"David?"  
  
"Haven't you read enough, Da-Scu-Lai, to realize that I am named after a strong religious symbol? It's a very sacred symbol." She heard the crack of a whip and saw him cry out in pain, a tear escaping the corner of his eye as he was whipped.  
  
"You will not address the Princess like that, you mongrel. Do you understand me?" the slave-driver harshly yelled in Egyptian.  
  
"I am carrying on a conversation with him. Please fetch me some salve, so that I may repair the damage you've caused," she harshly barked in Egyptian to the man. The man's head lowered in shame as he walked off.  
  
"Why'd you do that for me?" he asked, softly. She cupped his face in her hands and eased his face up to look at him. He gasped softly. It didn't go unnoticed by her. Her head bowed slightly, abashedly.  
  
"I know I'm not very pretty," she dejectedly remarked.  
  
"You're beautiful," he murmured. Her gaze met his and his tongue flicked over his lips quickly as he leaned closer. Their lips bumped awkwardly, when she was called.  
  
"Da-Scu-Lai! You are summoned by Pharaoh Diana!" She heard the royal summon. She looked up at him and brushed her red hair aside. She whispered something to him quickly, before darting out of the slave quarters.  
  
Diana sipped at her wine from a gold goblet, while adjusting the band holding her dark, sleek hair back. "Da-Scu-Lai, you were late."  
  
"So I was."  
  
"A lady is never late." She was silent. "I have heard from your peers and governesses that you have fled lately to go help the slaves."  
  
"I have."  
  
"Ladies do not fare like that. We sit around and we lounge. We cook. We clean. However, we also must pamper ourselves and make sure that we stay hygienic for the sake of our mates."  
  
"What mates?"  
  
"I've seen you hanging around with that slave boy. That Fox. I don't want you to see him anymore. Even if there wasn't anything romantic spurring, there will be, and I forbid it. I forbid you to go anywhere near those slave quarters. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"His name is David," she corrected, curtly. She bowed, walking out of the room gracefully. Diana sighed and sipped at her wine again. She watched her daughter leave the palace and head toward the slave quarters again. That child was absolutely obstinate. She kept track of her daughter's actions as her and that Fox character kept seeing each other. More and more of each other, day after day. After the fourth week, after observing their romantic feelings and actions toward each other, she decided that was the last straw. She walked in the slave camp, during one of their kisses.  
  
"Da-Scu-Lai!" she cried. Her head snapped up. She reluctantly pulled her lips off of Fox's. She looked up guiltily at her mother. "I cannot believe you. You did not obey my orders. He will not be the next ruler of our country, do you hear me? He can go back to his world!" This was followed by a string of Jewish insults, targeted at the boy. "Do you think I am stupid? Who do you think taught her this language, you idiot?"  
  
"Mother."  
  
"No more on this matter. It shall be settled finally. He is sentenced to die when the sun rises on the morrow." She shook her head briefly and left.  
  
Da-Scu-Lai wept in the privacy of her room, the tears falling bluntly and harshly, stinging her skin. The only other time she had cried was when her father died. Why did her life have to be surrounded by death? She cried more. She laid down on her bed, snuggled deep underneath the covers, and fell into a dreamless slumber.  
  
"This scoundrel has threatened and abused our lovable princess!" cried the slave-driver in Egyptian. The crowd yelled. He grasped his sword and plunged the cold steel through David Fox's heart. He fell, blood gushing from the wound, eyelids drooping closed. Da-Scu-Lai felt her body wrack with wrenching sobs. She lifted her head. She had an idea.  
  
When the blanket of night fell upon the city, Da-Scu-Lai crept downstairs, stole a sword from the grasp of one of the plentiful Anubis statues and plunged the sword deep into her stomach. She coughed up the bittersweet blood and with her final, dying breath, she. . .  
  
Scully awoke with a long, drawn out gasp. Sweat blanketed her forehead. She decided it was time to exit her comfortable bath. She exited, rinsed off the remaining bubbles, and changed into her comfortable, silk pajamas. She laid down on her bed, flicking on the television. She was blanketed in an eerie, dim blue glow from the television. She turned off the television and sunk underneath her covers, letting her red hair fall softly against her cheeks. She drifted into another restful slumber.  
  
Raleigh, Virginia  
  
June 12th, 1776  
  
It was the beautiful 1700s and their lovely colony was flourishing, thought young Victoria Scully. With her head thrown back, exposing her wonderful bright red hair to the glorifying sun, she tried to appear comfortable in the hoop-skirt dress and corset modern ladies like herself were forced to wear.  
  
"Victoria!" teasingly called a young man from the street. She looked down into the street to see the twinkling, mischievous eyes of Fox Rider. He mimicked a modern Southern belle. "Oh, help me! I'm so ladylike that I can't protect myself!" She giggled.  
  
"You're so immature, Fox," she sighed, with a swish of her dress. "Whatever will I do with you?" She started to walk down the steps to greet him when her father was at the door. He had a scowl on his face.  
  
"You are not to communicate with him, Victoria," he ordered.  
  
"Whyever not?"  
  
"I've just discovered that he's been attending those Sons-of-Liberty meetings. That traitor! Especially when things are going especially excellent with Britain."  
  
"We insult ourselves by calling ourselves British. We're not. We're American."  
  
"We're British, you bloody idiot!" her father yelled at the boy. "Victoria, you're not going to interact with him any longer. You're scheduled to be married." Her face fell in shock.  
  
"Since when?!"  
  
"Since now. I've arranged for you to be wed to James Spender II," he told. Her face tinged red in anger and embarrassment.  
  
"Him? That fool? He's nothing more than his father's manservant. He shouldn't even be considered a prospect for marriage."  
  
"It's too late, Victoria, to change anything. The dowry has been prepared and you're getting married, no matter what."  
  
"When is the wedding?" Fox asked.  
  
"I hope you know who you're speaking to, boy!" he spat the words. "Can you recite my name, child?" He enunciated the words boy and child to establish and imprint the fact that he was a child and not close to having the status of his elder.  
  
"William Scully II," he muttered.  
  
"WHAT?!" he yelled. "I can't hear you!"  
  
"William Scully II, Sir!" he cried.  
  
"Better, boy! You're to be married the day after morrow," he announced.  
  
"Yes, father." Her eyes cast longing looks at Fox. He waited for William Scully II to walk inside the large house to walk up onto the verandah.  
  
"Victoria, you haven't said anything to him yet, have you?" his tone was forlorn and his eyes had tears pooling in them.  
  
"No."  
  
"Leave him, Victoria! Come away with me! I have a house in Philadelphia that I inherited. Run away from Virginia, from this whole lot!" he grasped her hand softly in his argument. His eyes were pleading to her. "It would be a better life for both of us. We could get married in Philadelphia or Boston! It would be a wonderful life, my darling."  
  
"I. . ."  
  
"He hates me, Victoria. He would spit upon my very grave."  
  
"Don't say that!" she hissed. "You're not planning on dying anytime soon, would you?" He kissed her hand, his eyes darting around furtively, before he planted a passionate kiss on her lips. She smiled.  
  
"Please. I'm begging you. Come with me. We can get married."  
  
"But, my father!" she continued. His eyes glazed over with anger.  
  
"Fine. Stay with your father. If you're that weak to not even consider changing sides and joining me to fight the British, fine." He stalked off. She walked back in her house, her heart wrenching in emotional pain. Against her heart's advice, she decided to go to sleep and think about it in the morning. She walked up to her bedroom and lay down on the feather down canopy bed. She fell asleep within minutes.  
  
She woke up to find her father sitting on her bed, grinning at her. She yawned, clasping a hand over her mouth. She stretched her arms and eased into a sitting position. "What are you so cheerful and happy about, father?"  
  
"You'll never guess what happened."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Not only has dear James agreed to marry you and accept the dowry, but he has also raised his stocks and bonds in the bank with the merchants so now, he's wealthier than before, my child. You are going to live happily for the remainder of your years." He kissed her forehead. He kept grinning.  
  
"I know that's not all," she replied, with a lazy smile. "What else happened?"  
  
"Here. Read for yourself. I'm going to go fetch your mother and speak to someone to see if they can perform a marriage ceremony." He hugged her, handed her a newspaper (with an unceremonious stamp tax on it), and cheerfully whistled as he strolled out. She smoothed all the wrinkles in the paper out and began to read.  
  
"Fox Rider, son of Sarah and Daniel Rider, has died yesterday. It happened when the local authorities found the local Sons-of-Liberty meeting in a hotel owned by a Sons-of-Liberty member. They were disbanded and each were charged with treason. They were hung within the hour, with no trial. It was especially strange to find a member of the young community at this meeting, but there he was, speaking like an adult. His parents are extremely distraught, but have gracelessly disowned him as their son. They will not be buried. Their charred souls shall burn in the fires of hell and Earth," she read, aloud, unknowingly feeling tears stride down her cheeks. She sobbed heavily, the tears making hot tracks down her face. She swatted at them.  
  
"On this joyous occasion, we shall wed two souls together," the priest said. "We shall bind James Spender II and Victoria Scully in marriage with the ties of love." The priest glanced over at the bride's face to see sadness written and etched onto her beautiful features. "Do you, James Spender, take thee, Victoria Scully, as your bride forevermore?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you, Victoria Scully, take thee, James Spender, as your husband forevermore?" She rasped out a barely audible, 'yes.' "James Spender, will you promise to love your bride unconditionally, remain faithful, and love her til the end of your days?" He nodded anxiously. He repeated the question to the bride who reluctantly nodded. "With the power granted in me by the glory of God, I now pronounce you husband and wife." James Spender kissed his wife fiercely, his lips pressing harshly against hers. She made no reaction.  
  
Ultimately, she bore him several children and raised them with the utmost care, but never showed any passionate love or affection toward her husband until she died. Her last words were, "Wait for me, Fox." James Spender had passed two years before, and her children had no idea what she meant, but they wrote those words on her tombstone.  
  
Light flashed in Dana Scully's mind. She was being transported? But to where? To another time, perhaps? Another era? Without waiting for her to comprehend or process the information she had seen, she was brought to another place.  
  
Salem, Massachusetts September 3rd, 1880  
  
Daniella Sand was waking up, but found her movement restricted to her upper torso. Her wrists ached and her ankles burned from the pain. She groaned. A man made an amused grunt.  
  
"So the princess is up, eh?" his voice had an English accent to it.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Don't remember? You're going to be hanged, witch, for all those horrendous things you did. Murder. Lies. Deceit. Adultery. You witches are nasty people. Why didn't you confess and make it easier on yourself?"  
  
"Why would I confess to a lie? Besides, they would have killed me anyway. Salem, Massachusetts is an ugly place. An ugly heritage."  
  
"Is it now?"  
  
She growled. He rolled his eyes. "You have a visitor," he announced. She sighed. She heard the footfalls of someone. She looked up. It was her lifelong friend, Matthew Mulder.  
  
"Matthew."  
  
"Daniella."  
  
He embraced her quickly. "I've heard the terrible news. I'm going to call a lawyer to see if I can get you out of here, okay?"  
  
"It'll do you no good, lad," the guard barked. "Nice effort, though."  
  
He leaned in close to her ear and whispered a few words to console her. He kissed her gently. "I'll try to help you."  
  
"I love you," he whispered, as he left.  
  
"I love you too," she mumbled to herself.  
  
She was set up to be hung and he was nowhere in sight. The noose was fastened around her neck and they kicked off the soapbox she was standing on. He came riding in, as her vision was starting to blur from the lack of oxygen. "Another witch!" he cried. "Follow me!" They did, but he doubled back and cut her noose, making her land in his arms. He kissed her gleefully, but just as he got her on his steed, a shot rang out and she was so shocked to see that he fell forward, dead. She sobbed.  
  
"You witch. You charmed him to do what you wanted. I was his savior," said the woman. Daniella was surprised to see that it was a woman.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Lady Magdalene Fowley," she remarked, with a crude smirk.  
  
"Fowley?" She giggled mirthlessly. "Interesting name." Lady Fowley laughed harshly.  
  
"Die, witch!" she spat. Daniella felt the warm gush of blood as the bullet pierced her skin. She sat there, gazing at the sky, passing silently.  
  
Scully awoke with a gasp. These dreams were getting strange. She needed to speak to Mulder about them. She walked out of her bedroom and into her living room, and picked up her cell phone. She dialed his cell number.  
  
"Mulder," he answered.  
  
"It's me. I need to talk to you about something."  
  
"Shoot." She swore she could hear an audible crunching in the background.  
  
"Mulder, are you eating sunflower seeds?"  
  
"Yeah. Is that the question?" His voice had a teasing lilt.  
  
"No. I've been having these weird dreams. Do you know what they could be?"  
  
"You'd actually have to describe the dreams, Scully."  
  
"They involve me and you. It always involves me, being in some sort of bad, fatal situation, and you manage to save me, but get killed yourself. And I always end up sad or suicidal after your death."  
  
"Have you thought about the possibility of past lives?" She was silent. "I'll take that as a no."  
  
"But it's impossible. I mean, you couldn't possibly. . . could you?"  
  
"What are you thinking?"  
  
"Oh, nothing."  
  
"Scully. . ."  
  
"Okay. I was thinking on whether or not you could possibly love me."  
  
"I do love you, Scully."  
  
"No, I mean. . . be in love with me."  
  
"That's what I mean. I am in love with you. I have been for a long time. You are the my definition of a soulmate. When you're gone, I just get a bad feeling. I'm overprotective, I'm possessive, hell, Scully. . . these are all signatures of a bad relationship or a jealous ex."  
  
"But you're not a jealous ex. I love you too, Mulder."  
  
"Please let me finish. I truly love you, Scully, and if you. . ." he paused. "Did you say what I think you said?"  
  
"Yes." She couldn't help but giggle.  
  
"And I interrupted you? No, please. Continue."  
  
"I've loved you for a long time, Mulder, but I've always diluted myself to the illusion that I'm not your type. That you'd never love me."  
  
"I have a type?"  
  
"Yes. Blonde or brunette. More likely, brunette. Brown eyes. Tall. Thin. Shallow. Well-endowed in the chest area. Leggy. Very slutty at times. Sound familiar?"  
  
"That's my type? Slutty? A bit territorial, Scully?"  
  
"Just a smidge."  
  
"Where did you get this idea?"  
  
"Diana, Phoebe, that woman from Kroner, Bambi. I mean, must I continue?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Scully."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For being such an ass."  
  
"It's okay, Mulder. Now, come over here."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"To my apartment."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I just want you to hold me."  
  
"I'm on my way."  
  
Mulder arrived within a few minutes and they spent that evening, just cuddling and snuggling on her couch, perfectly content. They were going to take things one step at a time but for that night, they found solace in each other. 


End file.
